


Propriety

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [20]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Tobirama's determined to make the best out of a 'bad' situation.





	Propriety

**Author's Note:**

> Realized I had been neglecting my AO3 account ^^' So here, have a short drabble I shat out on tumblr.

“If you’d quit fidgeting, this would go faster.” Tobirama swatted at his partner’s shoulder the best he could, his fingers tangled in the mess that passed for Madara’s hair. He heard a sharp hiss as he worked at a particularly stubborn knot, and wondered not for the first time in the past hour how Madara could hide so many tangles in those dark locks of his.

“Tell me why, again, I have to put up with this?” Madara tried to look back over his shoulder, but Tobirama shoved his head back in place, gripping his hair even tighter. “They’re getting married at a  _court house_ , it hardly calls for this.”

“Kindly stop reminding me of that. It’s bad enough I can’t see Anija get  _properly_  married.” That had been a point of contention between Hashirama and himself ever since the engagement had been announced, and thinking about it even the day of still ate at his insides. Wearing a proper suit (and renting one for Madara as well) had eased some of his aggravation, and it wasn’t something up for discussion.

Now the only thing standing in his way was the  _beast_  connected to Madara’s head, which  _refused_  to lay right. Dousing it with more spray-in conditioner,  Tobirama tossed the bottle aside and dived right back in, not at all willing to admit defeat.

The huffed “prude” under Madara’s breath pricked at a nerve, leaving Tobirama near snarling as he finally parted the monstrosity enough to start braiding it.

“I am  _not_  a prude.” He leaned forward to grab a few ponytails off their kitchen table, snapping them on one wrist before weaving Madara’s hair together. “Is it so wrong to want a  _wedding_  for them? Floral arrangements, an archway, a nice tiered cake-”

He cut himself off with a sharp intake, pulling Madara’s head back to stare wide-eyed in horror down at him. “How are they supposed to celebrate their first anniversary without the traditional leftover cake?”

“Uhhh, with each other?”

Madara looked entirely too unconcerned by his revelation. Tobirama pushed his head forward again and started to braid in double-time, mind frantically searching for a solution to this newest problem.

“We won’t be able to call in an order so late, but I know a few family recipes.”

“Tobirama, we’re supposed to be there in three hours.” Madara turned to face him now that his hair was tied back and finished, giving Tobirama a pointed look, like he was trying to get something across to him.

Whatever he was trying to say would have to wait, because Tobirama had ingredients to collect. Luckily enough, he had enough aprons laying around to cover his suit while he baked up a storm. He’d already started to tie one on while he searched through their cabinets, turning to give a quick kiss to Madara’s cheek when he came over.

“Be a dear and go pick up more powdered sugar. And  _don’t_  muss up your suit while you do it.”

“Can’t you just buy them a cake?”

Never in his life had Tobirama heard such an offensive suggestion, and he paused his gathering just long enough to send an utterly disgusted glare his partner’s way. “Anija will  _not_  be getting a store bought cake for his  _wedding_.”

“Elopement,” Madara corrected.

He got wacked in the forehead with a spice jar for the reminder, and wisely left Tobirama to his kitchen scurrying - the whole while grumbling about how fenatic the Senju were as a whole.


End file.
